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“Look at her. She is laughing at me.”

“First of all, it is vacant period and she is sleeping at her desk. Second, how is this about you? I was literally the one she punched.”

“Doesn’t your face hurt? Stop talking.” Yoonji sneers at her broken-nosed twin. “Did she make you apologize? Because if she did, I swear—”

“She didn’t.”

Well, Yoonji knew that. She had watched the footage a hundred times.

“Prez. Someone’s here for you.”

“I’m not expecting anyo— Y/N-ah? Come in!”

“Hi, Seokjin-oppa. Are you busy? I’m here to cash in a favor.”

“Aw. My dear dongsaeng, who do I have to kill?”

“What? I just need your Calculus notes from last year. I can’t afford a B on finals.”

Kim Seokjin stares flatly at Y/N before sighing. This girl.

Hana’s not that good of a liar. Not when it’s you. You notice every time her fingers tremble, when the stares get too much, too knowing. Still, she keeps her chin up.

You know it’s not easy.

Her fifth day back, a boy actually tries her, muttering something about her tits to his gang of friends when the two of you pass by their group at the cafeteria.

Hana overhears it.

And Hana – your Hana, varsity baseball pitcher Hana – snatches the heeled brown leather oxford from her left foot lightning fast and punts it right between his eyes.

Stupid boy’s out cold.

You watch Hana as she hops on one leg and retrieves her shoe. She turns to you and grins, cutely holding up a victorious peace sign to her left cheek.

Hana doesn’t miss.

“I think we’ll win Nationals at this rate!” she proclaimed cheerily.

You think you might cry. You don’t trust your voice, so you nod to agree.

It’s rare for Park Jimin to text you to meet him at the lobby for council business. Despite being his deputy, he’s usually quick to utilize his infinite string of companions to whatever fruition before he dials your number.

The Parks are a political family. Jimin’s basically set to inherit Busan’s financial capital for the next two decades, and in contrast, your mother’s well-off only because of—

“—need to borrow you. Tonight. You can’t say no.”

You snap out of your trance. “What?”

“I said, you’re coming with me to the academy fundraiser. The gala’s tonight.” He flashes a sleek black card between his fingers. “My sister’s excited to get you all made up, but before that, let’s get you a dress that matches my tie.”

Schmoozing up to donors is not your thing. “Yeah, no. That isn’t in my list of duties.”

Jimin huffs. “Jin’s eomoni is making him go because he’s president. On the other hand, as vice-president, Namjoon’s hosting it. Like I told you: council business.”

The switch is immediate. You’re already making Jimin carry your lunch bag, slotting it through his arm and over a shoulder. There’s a spring in your step as you pull him excitedly to the doors.

“A gala! Tonight!” you repeat, unable to help your grin. “Jimin-ssi, have I told you how much I enjoy being your deputy?”

Jimin’s bemused. To think all he had to mention was Namjoon.

Min Yoonji tends to stalk her interests with the discretion of a growing storm. Unlike her twin brother, it is not in her nature to be quiet in her curiosity, and it is no secret that she has been hounding her informants about you. Unfortunately, as far as her connections are concerned, your student dossier is virtuous. Underwhelming. On file, your mother is well-to-do, but not at all important and imperial like the legacy of the Mins. Aside from participating in clubs that would provide you with fresh, employable credentials in the future, you keep to your friendships meager and live your life on the low.

Yoonji considers that it is precisely in the caliber of your chosen friendships that you able to stand as unbothered as you do in the predatory ocean of the academy. Kim Seokjin, student council president… Park Jimin, public relations officer… and Ryeo Hana, supreme court chief justice’s daughter: all luminous, untouchable names where one could stand behind, safe and pallid.

But the thing is Yoonji is in theknow. Behind Kim Seokjin’s regnancy and Park Jimin’s unmatched charisma lie their true, polluted colors. Although blue-blooded, Seokjin is a womanizing manipulator who has managed to perfect his political façade with the school as his miniature arena. Jimin has just about proven – even to the school’s officials – that he is the last person anyone should attempt to malign, provided that they want their reputation, financial standing, children, and spouses to remain undefiled.

How young men can be so powerful and disgusting, Yoonji does not know.

What surprises Yoonji is how fiercely loyal they become once she breaches the subject of you. After all, they don’t need you. You are disposable, insignificant, and, as a matter of fact, belong to the class of people the council members have been known to seduce and destroy for casual entertainment.

Influential in her own right, Yoonji at least manages to convince student representative Kim Taehyung to provide her a copy of your school record. Yoonji meets with him after school hours behind the bleachers of the main gymnasium, and as they peruse your pristine file, Jeon Jungkook, all sweaty from dance practice, arrives.

They crowd over your dossier.

Jungkook recognizes your profile photo. “Oh, that’s council-noona,” he says. “She’s pretty hot. But what’s this for? Are we jacking off right now?”

Yoonji shoves Jungkook off the bench in annoyance, but it does not dissuade him.

“Jimin-hyung mentioned something about Y/N and Namjoon,” Taehyung explains in a whisper to his underclassman. “Yoonji wants to know their history.”

Jungkook smirks at Yoonji. “Well, have you tried asking Namjoon-hyung?”

“Of course I have!” Yoonji nearly flings the folder in frustration. Your record, just like Kim Namjoon’s, is squeaky clean. “He bailed so fast and I haven’t been able to get a hold of him since!”

Jungkook takes the folder from Yoonji’s grasp, waves it in the air. “Namjoon-hyung’s vice-president. Of course you won’t find out about what happened between them in any of these! Haven’t you ever had your file scrubbed before, Yoonji-ssi?”

With a sneer, Yoonji replies crossly, “I don’t bring my misdeeds to school, Jeon Jungkook.”

Jungkook shrugs. “Not all of us have that discipline. But about Y/N and Namjoon… why don’t I just tell you?”

Yoonji’s breath hitches when Jungkook’s gaze takes a turn for the malicious.

Introduced to him on your first week as a transfer student, Student Council Vice-President Kim Namjoon had taken one good look at you and decided you were small prey. You weren’t moneyed, but you were smart enough to know the benefit of being excessively respectful, courteous, and diligent to those who had status in the academy. To him.

Like all the boys around, Namjoon wanted the shiny new toy with her bare face and regulation-length skirt.

Fucking tease. He wanted to hurt you permanently. Make you a woman.

At the council deputy mixer, you had foolishly accepted Namjoon’s offer to let you crash at his place. His parents were never home, and you were too inebriated from after-school karaoke – after he had spiked your drink.

You woke up at just the right moment, laying on his opulent couch, world spinning in his bedroom.

He had your school blouse unbuttoned but ribbon still attached; your white brassiere pulled down to accommodate his large, eager hands as they played with your breasts.

Noticing you wake, your dazed gaze on his naked torso as you came to, Namjoon pushed his bent knees under your thighs until your legs folded upward and hiked your pleated skirt upward. He licked his lips at the sight of you, boneless underneath him.

Your frilled white panties. His prominent bulge pressing against you with his slacks unzipped.

You turn your head to the side as Namjoon nuzzles your left ear, lapping at it. At this angle, you see his dress shirt and blazer discarded on the back of the couch, just an arm’s length away. He’s whispering his secrets to you – how much he loves welcoming fresh girls like you to the academy, how you’ll develop an addiction to the aphrodisiac he’d dosed you with soon enough, how much he wants to be your first.

A wicked grin overtakes his mouth when he ruts his groin into your clothed core, and the both of you share a guttural moan.

“I drugged myself too, baby,” he admits. “I shouldn’t let you have all the fun, right?”

Namjoon descends to suck your tits forcefully into his mouth, one at a time.

“Fuck.” Namjoon swears. “You love this, don’t you?”

Your blood begins to simmer because of Namjoon’s continued ministrations, and the feeling in your fingertips slowly return. Your fingers crawl their way from the tracing the detailed embroidery of the couch to the harsh tweed of Namjoon’s blazer nearby until you find the Mont Blanc fountain pen stashed in its pocket.

You uncap it and curl your fingers around.

“Please kiss me, oppa,” you murmur. You need his full attention. “Please.”

Namjoon unlatches from your chest and rises to lock his lips with yours. You don’t fight it. You savor the taste of him and welcome his tongue.

And then you stab the junction of his neck and shoulder with his fountain pen, your doe eyes fixated on Namjoon’s expression the entire time.

Confused and rattled, he topples backward from you as his hands fly to press at his injury. “What the fuck?”

His look of complete shock, mixed with your drug-induced euphoria, causes you to laugh slyly as you sit upright. Namjoon sits, still immobile, and you swing your legs over his lap to straddle him. You place your hands on his shoulders before yanking the fountain pen out of his shoulder and bringing it to your mouth.

Namjoon chokes on his cry.

As you lick the liquid off the pen nib, Namjoon gapes at the smear of ink and blood trailing on your slick tongue, blood still spurting from his wound.

Your other hand draws downward as you pull his cock free, finding it hard and rigid still despite your violent surprise.

“I’m just so flattered, Vice-President.” Your eyes still glazed and half-lidded, lips glossy with drool as you spoke. With a firm grip, you pumped him once, twice. Slow, then hard. “Should I put you in and let you get off, at least?” You ask demurely. “But… this isn’t my first time, you know.”

Namjoon feels both disoriented and distraught. When you press your clothed pussy to his length, so warm that it felt good, good, good against his cock, his loses the rest of his mind.

You decide to sit on his lap fully. The both of you groan again.

The drug overriding your systems… Heaven.

“Then I’ll leave you here bleeding and go to the hospital. I’ll tell them you raped me, came in me,” you muse with an airy giggle. “It’ll be breaking news. My father will destroy your company for sure, and the Kims will have to disown you.” You pause, reaching between your legs, past your school skirt, hooking your underwear to the side. With a nasty grin, you rut yourself along Namjoon. “Maybe I’ll even let myself get pregnant tonight... Make your life a living hell. What do you think, Namjoon-oppa, do you think we’d make a cute baby?”

Tracing the fountain pen across his cheek then up his eye, dangerously close to where you could sink it into the curve of his sclera, Namjoon frantically wants to shake his head.

“You really shouldn’t toy with girls.” You tell him plainly. “We’re dangerous, you know?”

Namjoon’s pupils are blown. His throat bobs as he swallows.

“The first boy who tried this with me…” You mutter against the side of his face, kissing lightly toward his ear, “…I fucked him up real good. Just ask Seokjin-oppa, he knew the guy.”

Finally, your vision settles, and you hop off Namjoon. You button up your blouse and reach for your blazer lying on the floor.

Waving your fingers at him in a cute, flirty goodbye, you bid him, “Better watch yourself from now on, oppa.”

Yoonji stares at Jungkook in disbelief.

“Let me get this straight. You know about Jin-hyung, and you know about Jimin-hyung, but about Namjoon-hyung you had no idea?” Jungkook guffaws. “There’s a gala tonight. You should see for yourself how fast it takes Namjoon to disappear when they’re in the same room.”

Immensely perturbed, Yoonji asks, “How do you know all this?”

Jungkook’s head tilts. He taps the embroidered surname on his uniform. Yoonji’s eyes close at the realization.

JeonPharmaceuticals.

Right.